Showing posts with label m/m. Show all posts
Showing posts with label m/m. Show all posts
Friday, March 18, 2011
New Release: The Charlie Factor
 | The Charlie FactorBy: Diana DeRicci | Other books by Diana DeRicciPublished By: Purple Sword Publications, LLC ISBN # 9781936165841 Word Count: 64752 Heat Index  Available in: Adobe Acrobat, Palm DOC/iSolo, Microsoft Reader, HTML, Mobipocket (.prc), Rocket, Epub Available at Purple Sword Publications and other retailers, soon on Kindle. |
About the book
One, recovering from near deadly injuries; the other, unaware of what he’s been missing in his life. What one man can do, may heal them both.Charlie Baker is recovering, slowly. Nearly dying tends to make a man reflect on each day. Take into account that his injuries were caused by a premeditated murder attempt, and he certainly isn’t looking for a lover. He is barely welcoming to a friend unable to trust anyone, preferring to hide from the world hours and miles away from the memories.
Gregory Anders hadn’t intended to disturb the man in silent contemplation on the beach, but when his pup, Samson, takes matters out of his hands, he’s forced to at least apologize for his pet’s behavior. There’s no doubt for Gregory that Charlie could use a friend. Clearing the air up front that he isn’t gay helps Charlie to relax, allowing for the cautious beginning of a friendship.
Two men, both alone, for different reasons. What happens when friendship bears more? When support and affection turns into attraction?
Do you take the chance of a lifetime, for the love a lifetime?
An excerpt from the book
Gregory had the oddest urge to soothe him, to hold Charlie, ease the torment he suffered. He got the door unlocked to push it in. “Come on. Let’s get inside.” Once in, he found a light switch. He held Charlie close, his head on Gregory’s shoulder. The scent of warm skin and clean male engulfed Gregory’s senses. There was no doubt his heart was reacting to it, because his heart wasn’t alone. His skin felt flushed everywhere Charlie touched, even the harsh pants of his breathing through his shirt. Gregory pushed it away. He couldn’t think about it now. Not when Charlie was barely standing, and gritting his teeth in frustration and pain. “How are you feeling now?”“Like I want to shoot myself,” came the flat snarl.
“Shut up.” Gregory wasn’t sure there wasn’t a level of truth to that statement, as despondent as he sounded. “You don’t have a gun, do you?”
Charlie barked a sour laugh. “No. I’m pissed, not suicidal.”
His groused reply calmed the rising fear in Gregory. “Okay. Can you stand yet?” Gregory had been embracing Charlie for a few minutes, one of Charlie’s arms clutched around Gregory’s waist for support with his own arms around Charlie’s frame. Gradually, the tremors and heaves that had rocked his body ceased.
Whether it was accidental or not, a shift of weight brought their bodies closer. Gregory froze as their lengths came together.
Charlie was sporting a hell of a boner behind his jeans. It stole Gregory’s breath away.
Charlie cleared his throat. “Yeah, I think I can now.” The raw depth of those words shook him.
They straightened, but when they should have let their arms release each other, neither did. Gregory stared into his smoldering green eyes. Daring green eyes that whispered promises and hungry desires. Things that Gregory didn’t understand and couldn’t imagine, but felt safe with Charlie. A current that kept him frozen as surges of desire swept over him.
Charlie leaned forward, just a fraction, and Gregory felt panting breath on his lips. His heart pounded. Blood raced. Skin burned. There was no doubt his cock was paying attention, because it was growing painfully hard inside his jeans.
The epiphany was startling, shocking, and confusing as hell.
He was attracted to Charlie.
But he couldn’t be. Gregory wasn’t gay.
Gregory blinked and unwound his hold. The urge to flee screamed at him. “You okay?”
Charlie’s gaze sank, gold lashes hiding him. “Yes. Thank you.” With a purposeful effort, Charlie steadied his weight on his cane, releasing Gregory’s waist completely. “Seems you’re always picking me up off the ground.”
“That’s what friends do,” he managed, trying for flippant and coming out way too tender. He sent the order to his brain to make his legs take a step away. They finally obeyed. “I better get home. Samson probably has to pee a river.”
Charlie chuckled, though it sounded forced. Slipping out the door, Gregory escaped to his still-running Jeep with long, ground-eating strides. He slammed the door closed and released a shuddering breath. The man had been turned on, and unless he needed to take Chemistry 101 again, Charlie had almost kissed him, came damned close to kissing him.
What shook Gregory’s world was that Charlie wasn’t the only one who had been feeling the attraction. The sheer want had been electric. Gregory couldn’t recall feeling the need to close the gap between his lips and Charlie’s like he had just now. Not between himself and a woman, and never with another man. A shudder rocked him as he maneuvered the Jeep onto the road.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Draven's Crossing: Mind Games by Diana DeRicci
Draven's Crossing II
Diana DeRicci
ISBN 978-1-936165-74-2
Word Count: 26997
PDF Page Count: 75
Heat Index: Erotic
Does this book contain violence? Yes
Genre(s): Erotic Romance/ M/M/ Vampire
http://purplesword.com/
From out of the darkness, a voice calls, luring one man into a battle of the unknown.
Jackal has lived a well-guarded secret his entire life. A being of immense power, he understands and accepts the loss and emptiness of never finding a soul to love, yet endures because it is his only path. Eternal life means none who walk the earth could comfort him for long.
The only one who could understand his plight has lived for just as long: a vampire. Taken by surprise and tortured, Kristof's agony pulls Jackal to him in the dream realm, forging a bond that is unexpected and unexplained.
But now that they've connected, will the darkness that hunts all para-kind in Draven's Crossing destroy them?
Excerpt:
Jackal tossed on the bed. Where are you? Silence echoed in the dream realm. He shouldn't even be looking. He'd tried to restrain the need, but it had eaten at him, decimating his willpower in miniscule bites. The vampire he'd saved was alive. It was enough.
Or it should have been.
Jackal let himself be drawn outward, pulled by some force he'd never been able to fight. He knew the other man was out there. His own sleep had been restless the last few nights. Whether Kristof was trying or not, he was looking for Jackal too, only he didn't know who or what he was.
Maybe I should leave it that way?
He drew a slow breath, conscious of the action, feeling the motion of his physical self lying in bed.
Gradually, the dream realm shifted, shapes and sounds swirling and coalescing on the edges of his vision. It took him by surprise when the movement of his vision slowed, then focused into the common space of a living room. Nighttime shadows created hollows in the fabric of the living world.
Though it wasn't the shadows that captured his attention.
It was the man resting in the chair before him. The sight of his features sent little shocks through Jackal. He dared to reach out for him.
Kristof?
Black as midnight, his piercing eyes snapped open. The weight of the silence between them was a physical curtain. Jackal shouldn't be there. Kristof was still in Draven's Crossing. He could easily run across him as it was. He didn't need to be tempting fate, or any other cruel twisted bitch by facing Kristof again in the dream world. Jackal began to fade, to retreat to his own mental doorways.
“Wait!”
He stopped, as much as he could remain in his corporeal sense. Kristof stood. “You are real?”
Jackal nodded. “I shouldn't be here, but I had to see…”
Kristof lifted a hand as though to touch Jackal's face, but his palm went right through the shape of Jackal's jaw. How he craved that touch!
“Why can I see you?”
“Because I am letting you. Most would never see me beyond their dreams.” Or after.
“You're a true dream walker?”
Jackal laughed, though it was silent. “Among other things.”
“Come to me,” Kristof demanded. “I know you were there, not a dream.”
“I can't. I broke the rules. Then and now.” Better to resist. Jackal wanted to succumb all too easily to the compelling order of the man standing in front of him.
Kristof neared and Jackal wanted to feel his body's heat.
“Broke them how?”
“Then isn't important. Now, by returning.” By reaching for him, by interfering again. By needing. Jackal trembled and wondered if it was his physical or his corporeal self doing it.
Kristof shook his head. “I will find you.” Something tender was woven in those words. Was it possible? Could he feel something? Jackal pulled back from that thought faster than as if he'd tried to touch a hot flame.
Jackal wished he would find him. He couldn't deny the magnetic attraction tugging him in Kristof's direction like a rope tied around his waist with the end in his strong and capable hands.
“Don't.”
A heat blazed in Kristof's bottomless eyes at the denial. “You can't stop me from coming to you.”
Jackal realized Kristof was right. Physically, he couldn't stop him. He lowered his lashes, feeling the increase of his heartbeat in his body back in that bed. So many reactions, so many sensations. Jackal felt engulfed in them.
“I have taken your blood. I can find you.” His tone was gentler, but no less determined.
“Find me if you will, if you can, Kristof. I can't help, but if you can find me…” He didn't dare finish the thought. The resolve in his rich, husky voice made him tingle. He had no idea if the rules were being broken, or if someone else's reactions would come back to him. Kristof was a new experience for him.
The vampire neared until he stood right against where Jackal would be in his own skin. “Tell me your name. Leave me that much tonight.”
Rising to meet this man's eyes, Jackal twitched in the bed. Why you, Kristof? What makes you different? This man made Jackal want. He'd felt attraction, but want like this…? Desire? He felt like he was burning with it.Wednesday, November 17, 2010
First Christmas by Diana DeRicci
Author: Diana DeRicci
Cover Artist: Anastasia Rabiyah
Genre: Paranormal Gay Erotic Romance/Shapeshifter/Werewolf/
Length: Novella, 18,696 words, 54 pages PDF
ISBN: 978-1-936165-64-3
Release Date: November 17, 2010
Heat Level: Erotic
Warnings: Gay Male/Male
Purple Sword Publications
All Romance Ebooks
Cover Artist: Anastasia Rabiyah
Genre: Paranormal Gay Erotic Romance/Shapeshifter/Werewolf/
Length: Novella, 18,696 words, 54 pages PDF
ISBN: 978-1-936165-64-3
Release Date: November 17, 2010
Heat Level: Erotic
Warnings: Gay Male/Male
Purple Sword Publications
All Romance Ebooks
A stranded wolf. A cougar shifter to the rescue. Can the magic of one Christmas cure both their pain and loneliness?
Exhausted and injured, Jason is driven as a rogue wolf right into the arms of Lyndon, a man that by all he knows, he should never reveal his heart to. Yet when patience and compassion prove size can hide the heart of a gentle giant, a wounded Jason begins to heal. And to love again.
EXCERPT:
Snow fell in thick-flaked flurries, the windows iced in the corners in splintered patterns. Christmas carols played in random order from the CD disks Lyndon had inserted in the stereo. He loved the traditional carols, Bing Crosby being among his all time favorites.
No one could croon like Bing, Lyndon thought.
The evening grew dark with early night, and he sat in his favorite rocker reading in front of the fireplace. He’d learned to dismiss the derision at appearing like an old man because of his holiday habit. No one else had to know, and honestly, no one else did. Since his father died, he had no family to see, and doing more for Christmas than the small tree in the corner and enjoying the calm quiet when he was snowed in, just didn’t appeal to him.
But then again, most cougar shifters were solitary people to begin with. They didn’t congregate at huge family reunions. They were family oriented, but more of a nucleus family, not the in-laws’ cousins’ fourth removed and the subsequent divided tree limbs of family.
Tilting his head, he closed his eyes, catching the woeful howl of the wolf pack. Their songs bounced over the snow, keen and clear. He listened until it faded, then like a loop, started again. Except, their howls had changed, became hard, aggressive growls.
He sat up. That wasn’t like them, and they sounded very close.
Standing, he set the book in his hand on the mantle and walked to peer out his window. Limping out of the trees, he saw the blurred form of a wolf, hobbling.
The howls started again, and this time it was a hunting cry.
He knew the poor creature on the snow was the harried game. Grabbing his heavy jacket by the fire, he leaped into his snow boots, strapping them down, listening to the wolves’ cry.
He darted through the house, leaving by the side door of the mudroom, circling back around, searching the tree line where he’d seen it. Gray dusk made the snow seem even thicker as it fell, but he could just make out movement yards ahead of him.
The animal had stopped, though streams of steam proved it still lived. He didn’t recognize this one from his studies, and he’d catalogued over forty-five different wolves in the local packs. His home, an old look-out cabin, sat nearly on the border of their two territories, so every now and then, he actually could watch both, but for the most part, they avoided each other’s land.
Cutting through the snow, he listened, the howls coming closer. His hands were beginning to chill, and he stuffed them in his pockets, his fingers digging, but coming up empty. No gloves. He remembered. They were on the shelf drying out from his last foray outdoors. Couldn’t be helped, he was halfway to the panting animal.
Gray eyes focused on him as he neared. It didn’t attempt to escape, it didn’t snarl, and it didn’t become defensive. It laid there. Studying it as he drew closer, he knew this one wasn’t one of the wolves from either pack. He could also see what the problem was. A bloody paw was packed with snow and debris.
“Poor baby,” he murmured. “Found an old trap, didn’t you?” Cautiously, he eased his way forward, its gray eyes staying focused, yet its demeanor never changed. His brow furrowed. “You can’t be a wild wolf. You’d have tried to take my head off by now. I hope you’re not a release wolf that hasn’t found his footing.” He’d have to radio the conservation center when the storm blew over to see if this one resembled one of their release wolves.
A snarl whipped his attention over his shoulder. Three sets of eyes. Pissed off eyes glared at him. He growled low in his chest, hissing. The wolves were completely confused, tails in the air, full battle gear locked and loaded.
Not turning his back on the three, he crouched and gently lifted the animal from the cold snow. It hung limp as a rag in his arms. “Definitely not wild,” he breathed, the words forming as clouds in the bitter cold. “All right, let’s see what we can do about your foot.”
He had to take the chance to turn away from the watching trio to get back to the cabin. Golden lights soothingly glowed through the frosted glass window in the front. The wolves that had been chasing his cargo stayed behind in the trees, sharp snaps and punctuated growls voicing their displeasure as he took away their game.
“Too bad.”
But they didn’t follow him. The wolf’s forefoot was a mess. With a glance, he hoped it was really only packed and not badly injured. It would be a shame that a release wolf would have to be reclaimed because of an injury like this. Nudging his way into the mudroom, he used a shoulder to secure the door then laid the wolf on a pile of summer rugs.
It whimpered once as its body settled. Gray eyes closed. Taking a quick inventory, he realized there wasn’t a tag on this wolf anywhere. Hm. Not a release wolf? He stood slowly, still being cautious with the animal, but it seemed absolutely unconcerned with its eyes closed, resting, to anything Lyndon might do.
He slipped from his jacket and hung it on the peg near the door, doing the same with his boots, ready for him on the floor.
Now, he was definitely curious and concerned about the wolf before him. Not a release wolf, but way too docile to be a wild pack wolf. Lyndon couldn’t remember any like this one, ever.
Kneeling, he lightly touched it, waiting for a reaction, but all it did was open its eyes. “You aren’t wild, are you?” he asked quietly. “Is that why they were chasing you? Because you’re not wolf?”
It raised its head with a jerk, startled eyes sharpening and focusing on him.
“Thought so. You don’t have to shift if you don’t want to. I know it’s uncomfortable when you don’t know where you are, and the injury won’t shift well with you. If it helps, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a researcher. A cougar shifter with an affinity and divine love of wolves.” He smiled warmly. “Okay, before I talk you to tears—casualty of living alone during the winter—let me see if we can get your paw cleaned up.”
Exhausted and injured, Jason is driven as a rogue wolf right into the arms of Lyndon, a man that by all he knows, he should never reveal his heart to. Yet when patience and compassion prove size can hide the heart of a gentle giant, a wounded Jason begins to heal. And to love again.
EXCERPT:
Snow fell in thick-flaked flurries, the windows iced in the corners in splintered patterns. Christmas carols played in random order from the CD disks Lyndon had inserted in the stereo. He loved the traditional carols, Bing Crosby being among his all time favorites.
No one could croon like Bing, Lyndon thought.
The evening grew dark with early night, and he sat in his favorite rocker reading in front of the fireplace. He’d learned to dismiss the derision at appearing like an old man because of his holiday habit. No one else had to know, and honestly, no one else did. Since his father died, he had no family to see, and doing more for Christmas than the small tree in the corner and enjoying the calm quiet when he was snowed in, just didn’t appeal to him.
But then again, most cougar shifters were solitary people to begin with. They didn’t congregate at huge family reunions. They were family oriented, but more of a nucleus family, not the in-laws’ cousins’ fourth removed and the subsequent divided tree limbs of family.
Tilting his head, he closed his eyes, catching the woeful howl of the wolf pack. Their songs bounced over the snow, keen and clear. He listened until it faded, then like a loop, started again. Except, their howls had changed, became hard, aggressive growls.
He sat up. That wasn’t like them, and they sounded very close.
Standing, he set the book in his hand on the mantle and walked to peer out his window. Limping out of the trees, he saw the blurred form of a wolf, hobbling.
The howls started again, and this time it was a hunting cry.
He knew the poor creature on the snow was the harried game. Grabbing his heavy jacket by the fire, he leaped into his snow boots, strapping them down, listening to the wolves’ cry.
He darted through the house, leaving by the side door of the mudroom, circling back around, searching the tree line where he’d seen it. Gray dusk made the snow seem even thicker as it fell, but he could just make out movement yards ahead of him.
The animal had stopped, though streams of steam proved it still lived. He didn’t recognize this one from his studies, and he’d catalogued over forty-five different wolves in the local packs. His home, an old look-out cabin, sat nearly on the border of their two territories, so every now and then, he actually could watch both, but for the most part, they avoided each other’s land.
Cutting through the snow, he listened, the howls coming closer. His hands were beginning to chill, and he stuffed them in his pockets, his fingers digging, but coming up empty. No gloves. He remembered. They were on the shelf drying out from his last foray outdoors. Couldn’t be helped, he was halfway to the panting animal.
Gray eyes focused on him as he neared. It didn’t attempt to escape, it didn’t snarl, and it didn’t become defensive. It laid there. Studying it as he drew closer, he knew this one wasn’t one of the wolves from either pack. He could also see what the problem was. A bloody paw was packed with snow and debris.
“Poor baby,” he murmured. “Found an old trap, didn’t you?” Cautiously, he eased his way forward, its gray eyes staying focused, yet its demeanor never changed. His brow furrowed. “You can’t be a wild wolf. You’d have tried to take my head off by now. I hope you’re not a release wolf that hasn’t found his footing.” He’d have to radio the conservation center when the storm blew over to see if this one resembled one of their release wolves.
A snarl whipped his attention over his shoulder. Three sets of eyes. Pissed off eyes glared at him. He growled low in his chest, hissing. The wolves were completely confused, tails in the air, full battle gear locked and loaded.
Not turning his back on the three, he crouched and gently lifted the animal from the cold snow. It hung limp as a rag in his arms. “Definitely not wild,” he breathed, the words forming as clouds in the bitter cold. “All right, let’s see what we can do about your foot.”
He had to take the chance to turn away from the watching trio to get back to the cabin. Golden lights soothingly glowed through the frosted glass window in the front. The wolves that had been chasing his cargo stayed behind in the trees, sharp snaps and punctuated growls voicing their displeasure as he took away their game.
“Too bad.”
But they didn’t follow him. The wolf’s forefoot was a mess. With a glance, he hoped it was really only packed and not badly injured. It would be a shame that a release wolf would have to be reclaimed because of an injury like this. Nudging his way into the mudroom, he used a shoulder to secure the door then laid the wolf on a pile of summer rugs.
It whimpered once as its body settled. Gray eyes closed. Taking a quick inventory, he realized there wasn’t a tag on this wolf anywhere. Hm. Not a release wolf? He stood slowly, still being cautious with the animal, but it seemed absolutely unconcerned with its eyes closed, resting, to anything Lyndon might do.
He slipped from his jacket and hung it on the peg near the door, doing the same with his boots, ready for him on the floor.
Now, he was definitely curious and concerned about the wolf before him. Not a release wolf, but way too docile to be a wild pack wolf. Lyndon couldn’t remember any like this one, ever.
Kneeling, he lightly touched it, waiting for a reaction, but all it did was open its eyes. “You aren’t wild, are you?” he asked quietly. “Is that why they were chasing you? Because you’re not wolf?”
It raised its head with a jerk, startled eyes sharpening and focusing on him.
“Thought so. You don’t have to shift if you don’t want to. I know it’s uncomfortable when you don’t know where you are, and the injury won’t shift well with you. If it helps, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a researcher. A cougar shifter with an affinity and divine love of wolves.” He smiled warmly. “Okay, before I talk you to tears—casualty of living alone during the winter—let me see if we can get your paw cleaned up.”
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
New Release: Friday Night
Liam Drake
ISBN 978-1-936165-62-9
Word Count: 15569
PDF Page Count: 55
Heat Index: Erotic
Does this book contain violence? Yes
Genre(s): Paranormal Erotic Romance/Werewolf/Halloween
Buy Link: http://purplesword.com/zencart/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=2&products_id=63
Tagline:
Jack has a secret, a shady past, a jilted lover. So many reasons to avoid…Friday night.
Blurb:
Jack's been on the run all his life, always the submissive, always the man taking the fall, with no one solid to hold onto. But since his bad breakup with his ex, a werewolf with a penchant for cruelty and domination, things have been changing. The wolf in Jack wants out, and he isn't as yielding as the man. When Jack's new interest asks for an intimate date on Friday night, one day before the next full moon, Jack needs to decide who's in charge, man or wolf.
Excerpt:
“You're blushing,” he said.I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. Had to keep the libido in check.
His other hand came across the table and took hold of my fingers. “I am looking forward to Friday night,” he said. “To having you all to myself, not out in the open. I think maybe…you will let yourself out when it's the two of us. You'll stop being so cautious. No?”
I shook my head. “Maybe. Hell, I don't know.”
“We can't keep running for the rest of our lives. We have to try again, Jack. Why not now? Why not you? Why not me? We know what it's like to be hurt. To run. To feel like we are not worth more than dirt.” He winced when he said that last part, obviously haunted by his past as much as I was haunted by mine. “I won't hurt you.” He grinned, all seriousness gone from his eyes when he whispered, “Not unless you ask me to.”
“Ha.” I squeezed his hand, imagining the possibilities, ready to make up monthly lies to hide why I'd be gone every full moon. Desperate for companionship. Hopeless.
I stayed with him while he ate his lunch. Every lick of the fork or suck he made on his lower lip only increased my torture, my lust for the man sitting in front of me. He talked about work, about his boss and the old woman that answered phones for the company. He liked the old woman a lot. Called her Nana as if she were his grandmother. He talked about his little sister who would be coming to visit him any day now and now I understood why he had asked me about liking women.
“When's the last time you saw her?” I asked.
“Seven years. Our stepfather was evil to Maria. He was abusive to the both of us. It's worse for a girl I think.” Pain transformed his stern features into something crushing, ultimate sorrow and regret. “My sister is stronger than me,” he said in a low growl. “She survived. She stayed there after I ran away. She is the strongest person I know.” He pushed his empty plate aside and frowned. “You will meet her, Jack. You will see what I mean. I've told her about you.”
He glanced at his watch and shook his head, blue-black hair shining beneath the fluorescent lights. “Have to go.”
We both stood.
He closed in.
Every cautionary instinct fired off inside me. Run. RUN!
His arms clutched my body, barring me to him as he turned his face to one side and pressed his firm lips to my mouth. I was trapped. I was scared. I was afraid of being hurt again. The wolf in me shivered and whined. Then, with a defeated whimper, the wolf submitted. Heat washed over my skin.
I kissed back.
Raul broke away and left me standing there as he rushed out back to work. It wasn't weird for men to kiss each other here. It was a gay bar after all. But it was weird for me to be kissed like that. Out in the open. Forcefully with passion, not trickery.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
New Release: Delany's Catch
Delany's CatchDiana DeRicci
ISBN 978-1-936165-56-8
Word Count: 27788
PDF Page Count: 78
Heat Index: Erotic
Does this book contain violence? Yes
Genre(s): Paranormal Erotic Romance/werewolf/shifter/ GLBT(M/M)
http://purplesword.com/
Can love overcome the destructive force of an unnatural secret?
Alone since his boyfriend left him for another man, Jake Holiday has been working his bookstore, treading water, and keeping to himself. It was simple and uncomplicated.
Delany Coltrane changed that.
Turning a corner looking for an address, Del wasn't expecting to find the hot guy hidden under the stack of boxes, but couldn't regret needing to ask for directions. Not when Jake was his wolf's mate, and too damn sexy to ignore even if he weren't.
But with money problems and safety at the bookstore an issue, can Del and Jake find a middle ground to let their attraction flourish? Because trust is essential to share Del's largest secret with Jake. A secret that encompasses not just Delany, but his whole family.
Del's wolf was whining, wanting to comfort the man at Del's side. Something was bothering his mate. He was nervous and unsure. Even Del could sense the tension radiating off of him now. Taking a slow breath in through his nose, he calmed his desire as much as he could. Time. He'd said he had it. Time to put his money where his mouth was. He wouldn't push for more than Jake was willing to give. Though holding back was killing him.
Damn he wanted Jake Holiday.
They didn't say much on the drive, both lost in their thoughts. He tapped the garage opener pinned above him on the visor and the door began to lift ahead of them.
“Nice house,” Jake said, eyeing the front of Del's home, a suburban carbon copy of most of the homes in his area. Nothing fancy. Del lived alone, and for himself, he didn't need much. It was more for the location than anything else. What Del needed was room to run and he had friends close by with open woodland, available to the free running of the wolf pack. He stopped thinking about it when the next obvious worry was how Jake would take his secret reared up on him.
“What do you have?” Evasion tactics deployed!
“An apartment. Nothing fancy.”
“Close to the store?”
“Yeah. How'd you guess?” Jake let his buckle snap loose, smiling congenially at Del.
“Just a good one.” Sliding from the pick-up, he waited for Jake, then hit the garage button when he stood at the access door. “Make yourself at home. There's no one else but me and you.” Del wondered if Jake realized how he meant those words, that there'd never been any intimate male in the house with him. Friends and family? Couldn't stop them. Lovers?
Just Jake.
Soon to be lover, he corrected himself. Del popped open the fridge. “Beer? Water?”
“Not right now. Thanks.”
“Sure.” Del opted for a bottle of water for himself. Spying Jake looking a little lost, he reached for a hand and tugged when he found skin. He came to rest easily on Del's chest. “Hey, it's okay. We'll go kick back on the couch.” Del ran his hands down Jake's spine, stopping at the top of his ass. He'd been dying to get his hands on it, just to touch, shape, feel. Del knew he wouldn't be able to stop with his hands though. He couldn't wait to sink his teeth into those perfect globes, marking the firm skin with love bites, marking him as his. He let out a slow breath, determined to not accost Jake.
“Has anyone ever accused you of being overwhelming?” Jake slouched comfortably along Del's frame with his arms loosely looped around his torso.
“Once or twice,” he answered. “Come on, sexy.” He led Jake to the living room, to toss him the remote once they stood in front of the TV. “Here. Be useful.”
He sat to unlace his boots, kicking them off with a sigh of pleasure. He wiggled his toes within his socks. “Much better.” He set them by the couch to find later, then scooted back. Palming a pillow, he settled it on his thigh. “Come here.” He patted the pillow. “Let me at least touch you.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Subscribe To
Posts
All Comments
October Showcase
